The Anatomy of a Sunset
by Roseclaw
Summary: “Come sit next to me,” I command softly without taking my eyes off the jagged horizon. “There will be a brilliant sunset this evening.” Slash! DamienPip.


All rights and privileges to "South Park" are copyrighted trademarks and property of Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Comedy Central, and all peoples associated. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. Ahem Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. Sigh…

A/N: Yes, I have gone crazy and started writing South Park fics… Why? No idea, I'm just crazy is all. Wow this is one fucked up fic right here. I really wanted to write a PWP, honestly, I did. But this was what came out instead. I've been told it's amusing… And now that I've written this fic, I can go on with my other fics. Yay!

The Anatomy of a Sunset

Somehow the evilness of the town I have reluctantly come to call home is lessened from above. One may actually believe from this particular vantage that South Park is a sweet, sleepy little mountain town, because from above no one can see the filth, the whores, the violence, the poverty, or the overall immorality. I go up into the mountains every once and a while to forget where and who I am. From my mountain I am able to watch the sun set over the Rockies. Nights in August such as this one have the best colors.

Sunset is still about half an hour away, but the anticipation is the best part of it all. I started my trek early in the afternoon, stealthily making my way out of the town to avoid being the subject of a stoning. Even though I have been in this town ten years, my classmates still try to make me lose my composure. After my parents died I vowed that I would never be sad or angry again, and since then the denizens of South Park have been trying to turn me into one of them: an emotionally barbaric heathen.

I have escaped temptation thus far and in a few weeks I will be whisked off into a new adventure of college life. I will have a fresh start, even if it will push me into debt for the rest of my life. My financial aid and student loans are outrageous, but such is the cost of redemption. I will be attending a state school, but it is far enough away from South Park to be comfortable, but still in state so that tuition is less.

It had rained this morning, and I can still smell the dampened earth and spruce. The aroma does not make it down to the town except in the few hours before dawn when everyone is asleep and cannot fall under its magic. I breathe in deeply, filling my head with the fantastic scent of earth, spruce and sulfur. My eyes start to water from the sulfur. There should be no sulfur here, it must just be my imagination or…

"Come sit next to me," I command softly without taking my eyes off the jagged horizon. "There will be a brilliant sunset this evening."

If he really is behind me he will snort and reluctantly plop down next to me on my boulder. If he is not there then I will just be talking to myself and I can live with that.

There is a snort and I hear twigs snapping underfoot. I do hope that it is him and not a bear, although I would most likely have better chance of survival with a bear.

"Is that why you always come here?" he asks gruffly. His voice is a lot deeper than when I last saw him last year, more sensual.

"Right-o," I smile down at him from my boulder. "You simply must see it, it's fantastic!"

With a grumble, he climbs up next to me.

"How do you go down the mountain in the dark?" he asks curiously.

"Carefully. Some mortals such as myself are gifted with wonderful night vision."

We sit a while in silence. I look out over the mountains and I can feel him studying my face.

"What brings you back to South Park?" I ask quietly as the first hint of orange appears in the sky. "Your father?"

"This town is ripe with sin…" he tells me. The ecstasy in his voice frightens me.

"And why are you up here on my mountain?" I ask hesitantly, knowing that the waver in my voice is evident. "Going to conjure up more demons to rape me, tearing me to shreds from the inside out like a bad case of giardia?" He had done that the first time he was in South Park, but since then the torture has been less extreme.

"Not you, not this time," he states plainly. And I become a little less nervous. "I felt an innocent soul all alone on a mountain peak and I wanted to corrupt it, but sadly it just turned out to be you."

"Oh," I say quietly. I had asked and I know I should have expected a similar answer. My romantic heart wanted to hear something else, something about the beauty of the mountain and the sunset.

"The town looks really small from here," he comments, his voice heavy with mirth. "Like I could just step on it and destroy the entire thing in one go."

"Mmm," I agree. I had never thought about it that way: just snuff the town out of its self-induced depraved misery.

He gently put a hand on my thigh as the orange becomes brighter, filling up the sky. I have to bite my tongue to keep from yelping in surprise: showing emotion such as that would be falling into the open jaws of this town and I refuse to take that jump.

I can feel his hot breath on my neck as the stench of sulfur fills my lungs making me gasp for air. The hand on my thigh moves upward, gathering heat, and I feel myself starting to sweat. It is not the good kind of sweat either like after a nice run or a nice bout of shagging, but a cold sweat. I look down into my lap and his hand is on fire, burning a hole through my leg.

I shove his hand off and find a hand shaped scorch mark on my pants. That one will be difficult to explain to my sister. At least these are not new pants.

He growls.

"Look." I point out to the horizon excitedly. The sky is filled with a brilliant shade of orange and dappled with clouds of bright pink and lavender.

"You are one fucked up kid," he grumbles to himself, but since his mouth is behind my ear, I can hear him.

I smile, and I let him have his fun. He thinks that he is torturing me.

"You like pain, don't you?" I can feel him smirk malevolently against my neck.

"No one likes pain," I tell him simply, my smile gone.

"You wallow in it," he states.

"It follows me," I proclaim, instantly ashamed of my words. Now is not the time to feel sorry for myself; there is never a time to feel sorry for myself, these things just happen. I want to know the real reason he is here. "Damien, why are you here?"

"Father kicked me out of the house," he admitted. "He was having 'company.'"

"Company as in…"

"Yeah, fucking slut," he says fondly.

"So you came to wreak havoc all over South Park?" It may not be the best place on earth, but South Park is still my home and I do not want it to be destroyed, so I have become slightly defensive.

"That is just the bonus."

He bites down on my neck, his sharp teeth almost puncturing the sinew, but definitely breaking the skin. Unable to contain myself, I groan.

"You're a little slut too," he mumbles as he licks the wound he just made.

I gasp in agreement. The colors are fading quickly behind the mountains.

My neck has always been sensitive and he knows that and exploits that.

"Fuck, you taste good." I whimper as he happily gnaws away at my neck. Whenever he visited South Park in the past he would always torture me, but the torture now had become more twisted and disturbingly less torturous. I honestly do not think that he is trying to torture me anymore, just satisfying his addiction to the taste of my flesh. "I can never get enough of you."

It feels good. I remember a time when I would writhe in pain, hoping that it would go away, but now I revel in it. I have no way of changing it, so I might as well enjoy it. I suppose I do enjoy pain as he so claimed.

Once he has coaxed all of the blood he can from the wound, he sighs contently into my neck, nipping it slightly and lapping at it with his long tongue. The skin on my neck becomes cold when his saliva meets the evening air. The orange is now just a band hovering above the mountains.

"You would like this part," I tell him. "See the orange?" I don't wait for him to respond because I know he is not focusing on anything other than my neck and satisfying himself. "The blue is pushing it out of the sky. The orange of the sun and the blue of the sky seem to melt together without mixing. But they truly do mix in a tiny band of muddy brown."

I feel him smirk, telling me that he at least heard me. "That was disgustingly poetic."

I laugh softly. There is just no pleasing him, but he knows what I mean.

Darkness descends upon us.

FIN

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Giardia is a protozoan that is also known as beaver fever. It lives in contaminated water, which is why when hiking and camping people are advised to boil their water. It causes the most intense stomach pain ever and really, really bad diarrhea.


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